


YOU

by Books_With_Wings



Category: Hoseok/Yoongi - Fandom, SOPE - Fandom, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: BTS SOPE, BoyxBoy, Hoseok/Yoongi - Freeform, Jin cult, Jung Hoseok/Min Yoongi - Freeform, Kpop fanfic, Kpop fanfiction - Freeform, M/M, PrinceAU, Sope, bts - Freeform, bts fanfic, bts fanfiction, btsarmy, hoseokprinceau, hoseokyandereau, kpop, yandereau, yoongiprinceau, yoongiyandereau
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-29 09:48:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20433788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Books_With_Wings/pseuds/Books_With_Wings
Summary: *This is a work that my best friend and I have decided to co-write, and whilst we will alternate who writes the chapters, the idea, world and main building of it belong to her and I have only contributed by suggesting some. She is the owner of this piece, I am just happy to help. So, Charlie's the brains.*When young Hoseok's life takes a turn for the worst at the age of fourteen, he is left helpless and alone to roam the streets. That is, until Kim Namjoon offers him a way to escape; a job in a quaint tea house in the corner of a quiet road. Now, with his life back on track, there will be no more surprises. Hoseok is certain of it. Right? Well, not really. When the crown Prince Min Yoongi accidentally stumbles into the first building he sees whilst being chased by his father's guards, he sees a beautiful young man. There is nowhere to go but deeper into the obsessive craze he feels about this man. He can only fall deeper into the intoxicating feel of him, the light in his eyes. Now, Yoongi will stop at nothing until Hoseok is his.





	YOU

There were moments in life where everything changed. Drastically, wildly, instantly.  
For a young boy, that moment was a tiny change; a sudden move. It came in the form of a friend, an outstretched hand with a warm smile. A friend that led him into a small tea shop on the corner of a beautiful street. Looking back, Hoseok supposed, Kim Namjoon played the largest role in the most confusing chapter of his life. Scary? Yes. Interesting? Unfortunately.  
He sat on the side of the road, tired, before his eyes relaxed on the clouds above. Hoseok sat at a park in the late afternoon of a spring day, and whilst everything bloomed, he felt his spirit sink and become one with the earth and dirt that surrounded him. When his parents lived, they would often picnic in the grassy fields of the area, laughing and joking about. Warm. The memory was so, so warm. His farmhouse was a run-down, greyish sort of structure that had housed the immense joy and love his family had for one another. It was surrounded by the farms his parents tended to in their daily routine; it housed the cattle he grew up raising.   
It was only three years ago, when he was fourteen, that he had come back home from the stables at which he worked to find the most devastating discovery of his life. He had swung the doors open, a grin etched on his lips, a twinkle in his eyes. There was this joke, he remembered, a joke he'd wanted to share with his parents. They would have laughed, they would have thrown their heads back, a grand display of their delight, and it would have been a beautiful moment to witness. In candlelight, the dark rooms were still. Quiet, except for the light of the moon. He jogged through the rooms, past the living room to the kitchen.   
His kitchen was his mother's favourite room. It had been a large ambition of hers to create exquisite pastries and cakes, each topped with ripe berries they grew in their homes. It was odd that she was not in the room at present, and nothing was in the oven or out to cool off. There was no aroma of fruits or cookies. Strange, indeed. He set down his candle on the kitchen table.  
There was a single slip of white paper on the table, a small drawing of a sun in the corner of the page atop the handwriting he recognised to be his father's. His heart swelled, and he began to read.

_Hoseok,_  
_There is no greater moment in life than the feeling of being so incredibly proud of you. _  
_You are the man I wish I was to become,_  
_a soul I am glad to have met. A person I am ecstatic to call a son. _  
_There are those who look at the future with fear,_  
_but I am happy to report I only look at it with a sense of deep excitement and curiosity because I want to know who you will become._  
_You have an <strike>athsma</strike> admirable_  
_ (Sorry, you know I am not as educated as you, and your mother has corrected me_  
_on my spelling), thirst for hunger and a deep sense of passion for all in life._  
_I love you. ('We love you' your mother has said, so to please her I will leave it as 'we'. She's scary, huh?)._  
_-Your f<strike>ather</strike> parents._  


He let out a laugh, realising that his mother was scary at times, and set it down to turn to the pantry. In an instant, the candelabra was in his hands, outstretched forwards so he could see ahead. The room was heavily cleaned. Brilliantly. Spotless. Except--  
At the pantry door. It was smudged. Pooling at the floor, actually. A dim liquid that he could not see so clearly as the light did not extend so far into the room. He would clean it up for his parents, he supposed and as he neared, his heart sunk into his stomach. It was red.   
A deep crimson, actually.  
It was so, so-- Red. Red. Red.  
He could not breathe as he swung the door open into the pantry, one foot in the puddle and the other frozen, suspended in the air and ready to step forwards. His heart drummed. Loudly.  
For the most part, the pantry was as it had always been, it was a small room with shelves lining the walls. They were also the same as they always were, littered with jars of food and ingredients. Two dining room chairs sat in the middle, facing the door in an eerie sort of placement. The chairs, fifteen centimetres apart from one another, were bridged by a thick rope of limp flesh. The joined arms of two corpses. His parents. Their throats were slashed, their eyes open in a permanent demonstration of terror. He could only assume their opened mouths were in an attempt to call for help, but it clearly did not do what was intended, and now the corners of their lips were both slashed up to their ears in a wide grin.  
The wall behind them was smudged with odd lettering, the word 'YOU' barely being formed in his mind.  
A shudder ran through his body.  
Then, he did the only thing he could think of; Hoseok spun out of the room and ran faster than he'd ever ran before. He ducked under a tree in a nearby park eventually, when he thought his legs would give out, and vomited.   
His senses were dimmed. He was numb and shocked. He would have screamed, he would have moved. He knows that. He does. However, he was struggling to breathe and would have found great difficulty in doing so.   
He begged for a friend for the next three years. He begged for a family, and safety. Three years later, it seems the universe took pity on his soul.  
"Trust me," Kim Namjoon said, before hauling Hoseok up on his feet.   
He was grateful that he did that day, even as he was led into a tea shop and offered a job.


End file.
